


December 3rd: Elf

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Aziraphale is a good boyfriend, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Elf on the Shelf, Hurt Crowley, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, crowley is the instrument of his own misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 3 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Crowley finds something he doesn't like in the bookshop and pitches a bit of a fit.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 20
Kudos: 92





	December 3rd: Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3
> 
> Note: Aspects of this particular fic are based on a true story. Crowley's feelings mimic my own on this subject. WORST FUCKING holiday-related invention EVER. KILL IT WITH FIRE.

He knows something is different from the moment he enters the bookshop. 

He'd only been gone for a few hours. Watered the plants at the flat. Scared the Heaven out of a teen he caught snatching change from one of those street-side Santa donation collectors. Picked up coffee and treats for Aziraphale at the little cafe down the street while simultaneously spreading discord in the way that only a slow customer who takes his  _ own damn time  _ deciding what he wants can do. 

Now he carefully set the coffee and the bag of treats on the register desk and glared around at the shop, knowing that something was wrong but not yet quite sure what. 

The first thing he made certain of was that he could feel Aziraphale's (safe and happy) presence. Once that was established he cast a wider net, seeking out any possible interlopers who might be skulking about without the angel realizing it. When both those checks were complete he began visually scanning the shop. He slithered into the building, one step at a time, flicking his forked tongue for odd scents whilst looking for anything out of the ordinary.

It was a bit difficult because there was, currently, a lot of things in the bookshop that were out of the ordinary. Aziraphale had, after all, decided to decorate for the holidays. There were streams of garland hanging from the ceiling and immaculately-tied red ribbons affixed to the ends of bookshelves. There were wreaths on both the outside and inside doors and bits of fake snow spread along the floor and the edges of the windows. A jaunty snowman wearing a tartan bow tie stood next to the cash register, and a stuffed polar bear wearing dark sunglasses sat in the chair by the fireplace. 

(Crowley had raised an eyebrow at that, but couldn't bring himself to say a word against it when he'd caught Aziraphale snuggling with it whilst reading a few nights prior.)

None of these things was what had Crowley's hackles up, however. He stalked up and down aisles, unable to place just what exactly it was that-

Aziraphale had just wandered out from the back room, a mug of cocoa in his hands, when Crowley shouted, "AH-HA!" and nearly caused the angel to toss the hot drink all over himself.

(Aziraphale was not, in fact, quick enough to miracle himself out of the predicament, but Crowley had a long-standing 'agreement' with all of the drinkware in the bookshop that it should find itself splintered into a thousand tiny pieces if ever a single drop of liquid touched the angel's beloved coat.)

"Crowley!" Aziraphale never-the-less shouted in alarm. "You nearly scared the wits out of me!"

Crowley either didn't hear or didn't care. When he turned to the angel it was with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw as he jabbed a sharp finger at the little monstrosity snuggled up against one of the books on the Classic Children's Literature shelf. 

" _ What _ ," he demanded, his voice full of deep-seated disgust, "is  _ that _ ?"

With a single eyebrow raised, Aziraphale leaned slightly to examine the shelf Crowley was indicating, though he knew already exactly which 'that' in question was causing the issue. 

"That, my dearest," the angel deadpanned, "is a toy elf."

Crowley was practically vibrating as he pulled his hand back just so he could jab furiously toward the little pointy-eared creature again. "That's not just an elf, angel," he growled. "That is a bloody Heaven-blessed  _ Elf on the Shelf. _ "

Both of Aziraphale's eyebrows were raised now. He took a purposefully long, slow sip of his cocoa, staring Crowley down the entire time. After several foolishly awkward moments of silence he responded with, "Yes?"

Crowley looked as though he was genuinely two or fewer poorly-conceived thoughts away from exploding. " _ Why do you have an Elf on the Shelf, angel?! _ "

Cognizant and caring as he was for Crowley's mental and emotional well-being, Aziraphale was not overly fond of shouting as a manner of getting one's feelings across. (Not that he was immune to such outbursts, but even an angel couldn't be perfect.) Therefore, he responded to the demon's exclamation by casually walking over to the nearest armchair and settling himself comfortably before placing his mug on a side table and folding his hands across a knee. 

"I'm to understand, my dear," the angel spoke calmly and plaintively, "that they are quite popular with the children. I understand that the idea is for the elf to report back to Santa Claus, thus encouraging good behavior? I thought that perhaps the little fellow's presence would encourage children who visit the shop with their parents to be a bit more careful with what they touch." He allowed himself a slight shudder at the thought of all those sticky, indelicate fingers. 

The explanation was, apparently, not what Crowley wanted to hear, because he threw his head back to groan like a mortally wounded man before snatching the little elf from the bookshelf and shaking it violently. "I fucking  _ hate  _ these bloody things!" he growled. 

Aziraphale blinked, slow and calm, at the demon, shifted his gaze to the harmless toy in his long fingers, and then back to the demon. "Care to elaborate, my dear?"

Crowley saw the look on his angel's face and took several deep breaths to calm himself. "Warlock had one," he explained through clenched teeth. 

Aziraphale vaguely recalled this, though he hadn't spent much time in the house proper when he was undercover as the Dowling's gardener. "And?" he prompted. "Unless my memory fails me, you always took off during the holidays, claiming to be visiting family."

The reminder made Crowley's eye twitch, but he swallowed back the answer to the question Aziraphale hadn't quite asked. That was a conversation for another day. "Yes, well," he growled, shaking the little elf again, "the bloody thing came out of storage before I'd gone one year." He took another deep breath, tried to remain civil since it was obvious that was what Aziraphale was looking for. "It was left in front of the game room TV one day, and Warlock had a friend over. That friend didn't have an elf at home, didn't know the rules, and picked Warlock's elf up." 

Aziraphale stared, patiently waiting for the rest of the story, but Crowley just kept looking at him like the information he'd given was supposed to be some massive revelation into his prejudice against the little green-clad figure. "I'm rather afraid I'm going to require more information than that, my dear," he finally said. 

It was Crowley's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Don't you know how the stupid things work?" he hissed. 

"Clearly I do not."

Crowley barely managed to pull back a growl. His fingers twitched around the toy and his teeth ground against each other. "The story that comes with the bloody thing says that if a child touches it, it loses its magic and has to be returned to the North Pole. To keep kids from screwing with it, you see?" He shook the doll in Aziraphale's direction and waved his other hand in the air in agitation, like he was explaining the greatest truth of the Universe to someone who had no interest in learning. "Parents move the thing around at night to make the kids believe it's alive and watching to see if they're good, but that doesn't work if the kids move it themselves without the parent realizing, so hence the stupid they'll-lose-their-magic-if-you-touch-them story."

Slowly but surely Aziraphale was beginning to piece the story together. "So Warlock's friend didn't know the story because their family didn't have one themselves," he concluded, "and picked it up without knowing, leading Warlock to believe his elf had lost its magic."

"Exactly!" Crowley growled, and with the bulk of the story out he lost his patience once more and threw the little elf across the shop with a flare of rage. It rolled to a stop near the cellar door and the demon glared at it for daring to continue to exist. "Warlock bawled his eyes out for hours when he believed his elf had to go away! He was only four! He was fucking devastated!"

Ah. And there was the crux of the issue. 

Aziraphale was at Crowley's side in an instant, reaching up to card his hand through fiery red hair, an action that always served to calm the demon. "Oh darling," he soothed, "I know how much of a soft spot you have for children-" 

(Crowley growled low in his throat but didn't outright deny it.)

"-and that must have been so upsetting. But it happened  _ years  _ ago, and I'm sure Warlock got over it quickly. Kids are so resilient at that age, you know." He gently pulled at the back of Crowley's head until the demon had folded against him, sinking into the angel's shoulder to let some of the stress drain out of him. "It's a bit of a stupid setup for the toy, I agree, but that's not your-"

Aziraphale felt the way Crowley's body twitched and immediately snapped his lips shut. After a long, quiet moment during which the demon's body only seemed to get more and more rigid, the angel said, "They're one of yours, aren't they?"

Crowley let out a groan that would have put the most ghastly of spectres to shame. 

"Ah, I see."

"Seemed like a clever idea at the time."

"Most generally do."

When Crowley looked up again he had a defeated, frustrated look on his face and his glasses had slipped down his nose to reveal genuine remorse present in his serpentine eyes. Aziraphale immediately melted. He offered the demon a sweet, understanding smile and scratched his fingers pleasantly against Crowley's scalp. "It's okay, darling," he promised. "I'll get rid of the silly thing."

For the first time since he'd walked into the shop with his forgotten goodies, Crowley let the corners of his lips twitch upward. "Help me destroy every other one on the planet too?" he cheekily suggested. 

Aziraphale chuckled, leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his demon's cheek, and squeezed him close for good measure. 

"We'll talk about it."


End file.
